


The Seal Breaker

by Rayac



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Certain Powers, F/M, Heist, Humor, Romance, jewel thief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28858080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayac/pseuds/Rayac
Summary: If Sarah Williams' reward for conquering the Labyrinth were "certain powers" that defied locks, she was going to use them. Professionally. During the heist of an ancient tiara, however, Sarah discovers that not everything can be opened with a swipe of fingers. Fortunately, the Goblin King doesn't mind lending a hand.
Relationships: Jareth/Sarah Williams
Comments: 19
Kudos: 81





	1. The Formidable Heist

_"As soon as you find the key to success, somebody always changes the lock."_

\- _Tracey Ullman_

* * *

In the beginning, it had all been an accident. She'd thought it had been, at least.

After her father had completed a particularly draining case – and drained the last of his whiskey - Sarah had honestly thought it possible that he'd forgotten to lock up his liquor cabinet. It was an old cabinet and you had to jiggle the handle a bit to unstick the hinges anyway. He likely hadn't tested it with enough force. So, she hadn't thought twice when she'd slipped out the bottle of vodka on her eighteenth birthday. If anything, her father had offered it to her on a silver platter.

She became mildly more concerned when over the next several months, the cabinet remained unlocked whenever she'd sought to sneak a drink, but she chalked it up to good luck. Times were hard at the firm and sometimes harder with her stepmother. She knew something was severely wrong, however, when the cabinet door swung open at her touch minutes after she'd watched her father lock it.

Like _magic_.

And she was certain that was what it was. She was also pretty certain she knew its origin. Because while the Goblin King's parting words and look of anguish could have all been part of an elaborate Labyrinthine dream, she'd been unable to explain how every inch of her person had been coated with a thin layer of _glitter_ when she'd found herself back in the Victorian. It had been no dream. And magic – _her_ magic - was real.

Over the next several years, Sarah discovered that her magic unlocked a wide array of what should have been impenetrable things. Cabinets. Cars. Doors. Drawers that held answer keys. Drawers that held things more _valuable_ than answer keys. Nothing appeared immune to her touch. And then she expanded her horizons. Safes. Alarm and security systems. She'd yet to find something secured by a key or code that she couldn't disarm with a finger. Which, while at first concerning, Sarah – resourceful as she was – decided to use to her advantage. The world was a cutthroat place; if her reward for besting a magical king in a faraway kingdom were certain powers that defied locks, who was she to reject them?

She was Sarah Williams: The Seal Breaker. And she was exceptional in her profession.

Sarah blew on her coffee as she considered the project across the street. From the outside, it looked to be just another jewelry store tucked within the city's Diamond District. She'd learned many years ago, however, that not everything was what it seemed.

"You're positive it's being moved there tonight?" she whispered to her companion on the bench.

The man chuckled as he turned another page of his newspaper, not turning. "Doll, have I ever steered you wrong?"

Sarah's open fist clenched at the pet name, but she kept her focus on the front window of 'Ultimate Diamond Company' as a man in a finely pressed dark suit lifted one of the glittering diamond necklaces off a mannequin before disappearing back into the store. "I'm just making sure, Frank. I don't want to get in there and waste my time looking for a tiara they don't have. I've got other jobs."

"It'll be there."

Sarah nodded minutely. "Fine. Usual place, then?"

"Of course." And then Frank stood, stretching once, and leaving the newspaper behind him on the seat. With little more than a sideways glance at his watch, he lost himself in a crowd of tourists. Sarah watched him go with a slight frown. She wasn't quite sure how Frank had located her, but he seemed to have a never-ending list of clients seeking priceless wares. The latest ask was a jeweled tiara supposedly dating back centuries, though how and why it was being delivered to a retail store instead of a museum remained a mystery. Still, she got paid either way – and always kept a token or two for herself - and despite his misogyny, Frank had never been mistaken about a target. She supposed his questionable Italian associates with their even more questionable activities had ways to ensure their intel was solid.

She, for one, decided it better not to ask for details.

The store had opened at nine, but she preferred to case a target some thirty minutes after opening. By then, the eager morning crowd tended to distract the clerks, and the guards were still too under-caffeinated to pay much attention to a tall, dark-haired twenty-something dressed in jeans, a black turtleneck, and a trendy matching peacoat. Nice, but not _too_ nice so as to draw unwanted notice. Perfectly forgettable. When she saw several well-dressed couples enter the store, Sarah took one last sip of her coffee before tossing it into the bin next to her bench.

Showtime.

* * *

In retrospect, she should have asked a few questions about the origins of the tiara. Or, at least for some information about the owners of the store.

But she'd never met anything recently that couldn't be unlocked.

The layout itself wasn't too complicated. A burly guard at the front, just to the left of the code system on the wall. Several long display cases framed the side walls. Cameras at two and ten o'clock. And at the back, behind a third display case filled with the most opulent pieces, a nondescript swinging door. That was where she suspected the tiara would be kept: the back room. She'd been in enough stores to know the most expensive pieces were always in the back under extra lock and key.

So, she'd tried on a few diamond rings – she was shopping for what particular hint to show her boyfriend, she'd told the clerk with a wry smile – and politely thanked him for his time. In and out in twenty minutes, but with the various buttons and camera angles burned into memory.

At precisely two-thirty the next morning, Sarah found herself alone in the dimly lit street with the glistening of diamonds and other gemstones visible only when the moonlight hit _just_ right: her favorite time of day.

The first part was honestly the hardest, but there was no one around to hear the creak of the front gate as she lifted it after a swipe of black gloved fingers. Then, a soft pull on the glass door and within seconds, a similar caress of the antiquated code system. A crouch, and a slide around unseen camera corners, and with a gentle push on the swinging door, she reached her destination, set down her duffle bag, and flipped on the light switch.

It was there, however, that things went south.

She assumed the light switch was wired (or perhaps she'd stepped through a motion sensor?) because she heard it before she saw it - the tell-tale sounds of metal scraping and gears whirring - and when she turned, the nondescript swinging door had been sealed behind heavy metal doors. Pure iron she would come to later learn, but at that moment, she could care less about what the door was made of; if she'd tripped a security door, someone _knew_ she was here. The job would have to wait.

The doors appeared to have closed from the outer edges, so she ran her fingers down the center seam in her usual manner. She regretted the action immediately.

" _Fuck_ ," she hissed, grabbing her wrist with the hand she hadn't just _burned_ on the door. Burned _through_ gloves _,_ she noticed with rising distress. Because the door hadn't so much as twitched despite singeing off her woolen fingertips. She started to reach with the other hand, then hesitated. Not because she realized the action was likely to burn her other hand, but because she noticed the small, stamped seal a bit above eye-level. And the loops circling an almost infinity were eerily familiar. Almost...almost like the Goblin King's.

"Jareth," she whispered unconsciously, tracing the loops in the air an inch from the metal.

"This is a rather peculiar place to call upon me, Sarah. Especially after all this time."

Sarah stilled, then turned to the lilting voice behind her. Even without her gifts, she would have known him not to be the product of a pain-induced fantasy. The smirk at his lips and the arch of his brow were too pronounced. The sway to his body as he leaned against a wall – a vision of black leathers and skin-tight pants that made Sarah swallow – too elegant and far too cool. But it was his eyes, dual-colored and painted with mirth – and _long_ burned into memory – that pushed Sarah from denial into acceptance.

Jareth, the Goblin King. And he was about to be her accomplice.

She breathed out once. She'd had twelve years to prepare, but she'd never thought she'd see him again. Even so, _this_ would never have been how she'd imagined their reunion. "Jareth. This really isn't the best time. The cops are on their way and I need to find another way out." She noticed then that his smirk had fallen and he was tracing her person with a small crease marring his forehead.

"What in Odin's name are you wearing?"

Sarah glanced down sharply at her similarly tight black outfit, then frowned at him. "You're one to talk." And then, because he'd now cocked his head, she pulled off her ski-mask with a sigh. Someone already knew she was here, anyway. "I was trying not to be seen. I'm working."

"As some sort of Svartálfar enthusiast?"

" _Excuse_ me? Svarta-what?"

But he ignored her, tilting his head back and then jutting it at the door behind her. "But even they would know to avoid a door such as that."

She narrowed her eyes. "A door such as _what_?"

"Pure iron. Obviously intended to contain any Fae who entered." He flashed pointed canines. "Or someone masquerading as one."

 _Masquerading as one._ She'd been right about the magic: _his._ "No sense in letting your gift go to waste. Up to this point, it's been quite useful."

"To do what, pray tell?" he asked softly, almost as if to himself, and Sarah watched him glance around the back room once. In the haste of the sealing door, she'd yet to do the same. Like the front, it at first appeared unassuming. Several rickety tables dotted with silver tools and magnifying glasses; small, black velvet sashed bags and plastic bottles filled with some sort of cleaner. Typical tools of the trade for jewelry dealers. But, something seemed... _off._ She saw no loose stones or yet-to-be-sold pieces. Which was exceedingly odd for a bustling jewelry store in the heart of the Diamond District. Jareth, to his credit, seemed to notice the peculiarity and picked up one of the small velvet bags on the table nearest him and dumped it out.

She'd expected a blinding glint of diamonds or gemstones as the bag emptied, so the dull thump of jagged stones onto the velvet cloth lining the table caused Sarah to stumble. Those definitely were _not_ diamonds.

Jareth picked up a handful of the small rocks in his palm and turned back to Sarah with a raised brow. "Don't tell me you've come to take after that furry monstrosity?"

" _Fuck_ ," Sarah hissed under her breath. But Jareth's grin signaled he'd heard and she frowned at him. " _No_. Those are supposed to be diamonds." She absently waved a hand back at the door. "But with _this_ , I'm beginning to think this store is some sort of magical front. I doubt the stuff up front is real."

Something flashed in his eyes and he slowly emptied his palmed stones onto the table, his focus never leaving Sarah's face. "Am I to understand that you came here to divest this establishment of its property?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "What did you think I would do with powers that allow me to unlock anything?"

"My, my, my," Jareth started, trailing off to start a slow circle around her person. Like a caged tiger evaluating his prey, though his smile was all Cheshire. "Had I only known your dreams would take on such a... _literal_ interpretation, I would have sought you out sooner."

There was something in his glance that begged her to ask; a twitch of lips that teetered between amusement and excitement. "...My dreams?"

"Oh, _yes_ ," he crooned, still circling, and Sarah had to twist to follow. "Gifted at the age when you were no longer too young to keep. Certain powers to _unlock_ whatever dreams you desired." He stopped in front of her then, inches away. "Consider me impressed by your decision." A flash of teeth. "And exceedingly more intrigued. What is it that you are seeking?"

She watched him carefully for a moment, but the glint in his eyes only sharpened. He _was_ intrigued. Pleased, even. And, given the strangeness of this place, he was perhaps her best shot at escape. He _had_ materialized within the room, despite what he claimed was a pure iron, magic-proof door. "A jeweled tiara. Supposedly ancient. But I didn't see it up front and those" - she pointed to the stones on the table - "aren't even diamonds. If it's here, it's well hidden."

"It undoubtedly is."

Sarah snapped her focus back to his eyes, but he was looking past her, eyes narrowing on the iron doors. Before she could inquire further, however, he moved, brushing past her to stare closely at the small, stamped sigil that had drawn his name from Sarah's lips.

"Someone went through a great deal of effort to protect this place."

She moved to stand beside him, curious. "Protect it from what?"

 _"Me._ " He turned his head to consider her, and the glimmer was back, though Sarah heard _nothing_ in his words that should have brought glee. "Someone has seen fit to ward this place against my familial line."

"And that's...good?"

He snorted. "It means there is something here that they don't want me locating." He glanced at Sarah again, smirking. "But they didn't count on a magical backdoor."

"I prefer _Sarah_ , just so we're clear." But he ignored her quip, turning back to the depths of the room. His gaze was pensive, so she asked the obvious, bizarre as it seemed. "Are you missing a tiara?" she asked blandly.

"Amongst other things."

Sarah's brow furrowed. "So you think this tiara-"

"-is of the Underground? _Yes_ ," he finished for her, adamant. "And nobody takes something of mine indefinitely."

Sarah's pulse flickered and something in her stomach flipped. She didn't doubt it. Not for an instant. Jareth would walk to the edge of her Earth and the next to retrieve what was his. She felt the same. Though, she hardly felt Toby was a proper basis for comparison.

"Then I guess you can help me find it. But right now, we need to leave. We've already been here too long." She heard him snort in response, though this one was muffled as he moved farther into the room, leaving Sarah alone by the iron doors.

"If your traditional authorities were coming, they would be here already. I suspect the owner of this establishment intends to deal with trespassers himself. Likely when he next opens." He turned his head. "And in any case, unless you intend on making another _wish_ , we will need to locate an iron-less exit."

"You can't just transport us out? You came in."

"As I said: magical backdoor."

She pursed her lips. Though not immediately appealing, he'd also implied _wishes_ would get them out. "That's a rather large backdoor if anyone could just call you here and wish themselves out." At her question, he turned completely, though his twist was slow and methodical, and the glimmer had faded back into confusion. Incredulity, perhaps? But then he was walking back towards her again; leather boots treading just as methodically with steps that in his silence, echoed with a spectacular _clip-clip_. He stopped just before her again and his look was searching. Eyes narrowed ever so slightly. But then, as if he'd found his answer in the wrinkles of her forehead, his lips suddenly twitched.

"That it would be. But that's not what I said."

"No?"

" _No._ "

Sarah felt the denial curl through her like wisps of flame, and she allowed it to blister as she stared, unblinking. There was something dormant and unyielding that was hidden just behind his cool fa _ç_ ade. She'd seen his eyes darken before, but only in dreams, and _never_ when she could hear the low echo of his voice and smell smoke and sandalwood as the air roiled and _cracked_. Him, undoubtedly, both taunting and tempting her to engage. Not to be outdone, she leaned in.

"Then, _what_?"

The darkness flickered for an instant, but then fell as he pulled back, and the wolfish grin returned. "Find the tiara, and perhaps I'll tell you."

She pursed her lips again. She'd always found this aspect of him maddening: he rimmed words with an edge that ground clarity into dust. Sealed them behind riddles and intrigue. In her line of work, precision reigned. Which, as she rubbed at her eyes, reminded her of the present mission. "With the iron, are you going to be of any help?"

"Really, Sarah," he chided, eyes alight. "As with you, there is more to me than magic."

She snorted. Arrogance wasn't exactly what she'd meant, but she'd give him credit for his confidence. "Yes, but I don't get the sense you often find yourself without it." If ever, that was. His ensuing silence and pinched lips confirmed it; he was flying blind. Something about that thrilled her immensely. "Then if you want to help, you follow my orders. Got it?"

Another flicker. "As you wish."

She nodded sharply, cracked her neck side-to-side, then looked back around the small room. As she'd noted earlier, there were no pieces out in the open. There was also nothing obvious to click, push, or pull. But still, appearances were deceiving. Given the likely otherworldly nature of the store owners, she knew this would not be just another grab-and-go job. She pointed at the left edge of the wall. "Feel around for anything that might trip a passageway."

She didn't wait for him to move before she picked up her bag and did the same on the right side. Some months back, one astute art collector had secreted several (stolen) works within a trip passageway, so it didn't strike Sarah as an impossibility that this owner would do the same. Particularly since she already knew he'd installed one trap door. She pulled one of the rickety tables away from the wall with a _screech_ to reach the back corner, and then, gingerly ran her singed fingertips up and down the edge. Corners, in her experience, made for the best hiding spots. A horizontal scratch caught her attention and with some extra pressure on the spot, something whirred behind the wall and the plaster clicked back just slightly.

Oh, she was _good._ "Found it," she offered back towards Jareth wryly, but he had obviously heard it too because he was already steps away.

"This is assuredly not your first endeavor," he drawled.

She snorted. "Far from it. Here, help me slide it back."

The slab of wall creaked as it slid along hinges behind its neighboring section, and Sarah held up a hand when Jareth made to step through the opening. "Hold it. That's what got me in trouble the first time." She glanced back quickly, then lifted one of the silver polishing tools off the table she'd shifted. She thrust it into the opening just as swiftly, then, tapped it on the floor just over the edge. Thankfully, nothing else activated.

"What are you doing?"

She slid the tool into the back of her waistband for later. "Checking for booby traps."

"Beg pardon?" he questioned, and there was a twitch to his words that begged her to turn.

"Just follow," she hissed instead. " _Carefully_."

She stepped inside and waved him to follow. The back end of the passage was dimly lit, so she unzipped her bag to pull out her flashlight. From a distance, it was hard to tell what it was, but something small flickered under the artificial light. Even if it wasn't the tiara - or any of Jareth's other supposed "missing" objects - it was something more valuable than tiny rocks. Sarah grinned. "Bingo," she whispered.

The idiot behind her, unfortunately, took that as his cue to leap a step ahead of her.

"Wait!" But her warning was cut off by a distinct _click_ and a sudden _whoosh_ as her legs came out from under her, caught roughly up in coarse netting, and her chest was jostled against another warm body as she was thrown up to the ceiling. The warm body was similarly pushing against her person in a panic as the small netting swung slowly to a stop, some feet in the air. Caught. Tripped up in a damn - _non-magical_ \- rope net _._ Like some two-bit thief.

" _Fuck,_ " Sarah hissed again, attempting to pull her leg out from where it was presently tangled. Something hard was digging into her side and she tried to rip an arm out from behind her so she could shift it back.

His breath was suddenly hot against her ear. "I understand these are called booby traps, but you would do well to stop _squirming._ "

She stilled. Oh. _Oh, God._ She felt her face flush. "Sorry," she bit out, lips just as close to his own ear. "But I told you to be _careful_."

"You also said _go."_

Oh, the absolute _idiot._ She growled in the back of her throat. "Bingo! I said _BIN_ go; not _go."_

"Noted," he responded with a grimace. "Though a little late now."

She didn't have her bag in hand, so she tried to twist - _carefully_ \- to see what had happened to it, but Jareth's weight was atop her chest, and from her view at the bottom of the net, she couldn't see the floor. "Can you see what happened to my bag? Is it still on the floor?"

She felt his weight shift and bit her tongue as his length pressed deeper into her side.

"Yes. Right next to your light."

"Fuck. That's where I've got my pocketknife. Can you reach it?"

He shifted again, and the friction of his groin, and now his _arm,_ as it pressed down against her side was making it very hard to keep her breathing even. Harder still to keep from arching up to meet him. Her tight, black outfit only heightened her awareness of the lithe muscle in his chest and legs and the heat of his body plastered against hers. He breathed in once, then thrust his weight sharply downwards and Sarah swore she _yelped._ But, his only reply was a frustrated growl.

_"Not quite."_

Double. Fuck. Where did that leave them? Tangled up in a rope net, limbs twined, with his hardness now pressing against her stomach, and her rapidly losing the ability to hide her body's reactions. After the latest shift, something was stabbing her in the back, too. Her eyes widened, and she tried once more to reach, but her arms were still pinned under his weight.

"Can you reach the tool at my back? In my waistband?"

More shifting as his arm reached again, and gloved fingers suddenly grazed against the bare skin at the base of her lower back. Then, leather was groping blindly for the silver tool. Left. Right. Up. _Down_. Sarah heard her breathing catch, and she clenched her eyes shut when she felt the tool shift as he slid it slowly up her back and around her side.

Hot breath again against her ear. "Now what?"

 _Fuck._ "Can you...can you use it to catch one of the straps of my bag?" She felt him reach again and heard his growl, though this time, the growl was one of relief as he pulled his arm up to grab onto the cloth strap.

" _Where's the knife_?"

"Side pocket," she choked out. "Zipper."

She heard it zing, then, there was a jagged catch back-and-forth as rope frayed and snapped _,_ and their bundle of limbs fell to the ground with a _thunk._ The weight was still there as Sarah groaned, then opened her eyes to see Jareth. Eyes hooded. Leaning in...

She pushed him off and scrambled to her feet. "Thanks," she said, then winced as it came out breathy.

He sat up slowly, the hint of a grin threatening again. "Of course."

Sarah turned away quickly, lest she do something stupid; like crash her lips against his (or more). Her body wanted her to do more. It had been several months, and she had always wondered...She shook her head quickly. _Jeweled tiara. Jeweled tiara. Jeweled tiara..._

 _"_ Do you wish to go further?"

" _What_?" she asked, twisting back.

He flashed his canines and ticked his head down the hallway. "Down the hallway, Sarah." The flicker, then. "Or perhaps...something else?"

 _Damn him. Damn hormones._ Even if he was offering, this was _not_ the time. She wrested back her rational side. "Hallway," she gritted out. "Care. Fully." She snatched the silver tool from the ground and started tapping it on the tiles in front before she stepped. Additional traps seemed likely. Though, she found it very peculiar that the door had been warded against magic, while the rope net was reminiscent of a crude hunter's trap. Magical _and_ non-magical owners, perhaps? Guarding against anything and everything that might stumble inside?

"What, exactly, is so special about this tiara?" she asked, glancing back over her shoulder. "Or your other missing objects?"

He arched a brow. "Other than their belonging to me?"

"Yes," she replied curtly. Arrogant - _beautiful_ \- idiot. "Do they give you special powers? Authority?" She was quite aware of Jareth's horned pendant, but she'd never seen him wear anything similar to a crown. The tiara seemed an even more unlikely accessory.

"At present, they provide me nothing."

She frowned at his grin when he said nothing more. "Forget I asked."

After testing and stepping across a few dozen tiles, Sarah breathed out in relief as the glint gained shape. The glass box was expected, as was the dainty, emerald encrusted tiara, though she'd never seen something _radiate_ authority. Almost pulling at her to kneel or bow or offer praises. But, the feeling fast retreated in a hum. Her eyes watered, however, when she still found herself unable to blink or turn away. Otherworldly; assuredly. Before she could confirm the tiara was, in fact, the one Jareth sought, she felt him grab her arm. He'd clenched his teeth by the time she turned back. "What?"

"Listen."

She did. But after a moment, she heard nothing unusual. Her breathing was slightly strained but it had been since they'd been netted together. "What is it?" But he didn't respond. Instead, he'd tilted his focus to the right of the hallway, and she felt his grip on her arm tense unexpectedly.

And then, a _whish_ and her face slammed hard into tile.

The coolness of the floor railed against the warm body blanketing her, leaving her very little room to lift her forehead. She strained up. " _What was that?"_

 _"Trap_ ," he hissed back, and then, he sucked in a jagged breath. " _Damn,_ " he hissed again.

The hiss slithered down her spine. She'd heard the air bend, but she'd seen no trap, and felt nothing but the bite of his hand and his weight pushing her downward. She'd heard him hiss before - at least, she'd _felt_ it as stairs and space collapsed - but his hiss now was a different sort of pain than scorned offers and foolish wishes _._ He'd heard something. And it'd hit him.

After he pushed her out of the way.

Her pulse skipped, then thrummed. Adrenaline took over. With a growl, she rolled out and twisted, panic overwhelming the dull throb in her head. She had to help him. She crouched over his faced down figure. "What is it? Arrow? Bullet?"

He groaned as he pushed himself up. "Doesn't. Matter." Another hiss. " _Iron."_

She saw it when he shifted: a small, circular gash into the leather at his hips. Just large enough for what she now assumed was an iron bullet. He moved to cover it with a gloved hand, and then hissed again, and she ripped his hand away. "Don't touch it! Shit. Did it go through?"

" _Doubtful."_

 _"_ Fuck." They had to get help. _Immediately_. She had nothing in her bag that would pass as makeshift medical equipment. Not that she even knew what she needed in order to help someone like Jareth, anyway. He'd only made clear the presence of iron blunted magic; an iron bullet _lodged_ in his gut sounded disastrous. Deadly? She heard him suck in another pained breath, and the rising pallor to his skin confirmed her fears. "We need to get you out of here. To someone who can help."

" _Tiara."_

"Jesus, Jareth! Forget the damn tiara; you're hurt." She clenched her teeth. She wouldn't allow the idiot to die. "Can I wish us out of here?"

" _Yes_ ," he hissed again, but then he dug his fingers into her arm. "But get the _tiara_."

She growled in the back of her throat but pulled back to stand. That damned tiara was going to kill him, but fine; if that was his dying wish, so be it. She was only steps away from the glass-encased tiara now. If she leaned, she expected she could trace it with her fingertips. She bettered her grip on the silver tool. Perhaps this would be a grab-and-go job after all. Literally.

"If I smash the glass, how fast will wishing get us out of here?" The glass case had to be wired, too. And, _shit_. She prayed Jareth could get her back home after she did this.

"... _f_ _ast_."

God, she hoped so; that last hiss was muted. "Do I just sub in both of us?" She settled the tool just against the glass until he confirmed, but was only met with silence. "Jareth?" She glanced back to find him hunched over, turned away and still, and without even thinking through how _crazy_ she was to throw out untested wishes, Sarah slammed the silver tool into glass.

"I wish the goblins would come and take me and Jareth away. Right now."


	2. Revenge and Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Obligatory lemon warning, folks. If that's your thing, enjoy! If not, skip the part after the revenge.

Sarah landed hard upon stone, hands still clenched around the tool and tiara, to a chorus of sharp gasps and sloshing liquid. The feeling of being shaken in a blender took a moment to settle, but when it'd ebbed, she opened her eyes to a chamber full of bulging eyes, errant feathers, and tattered cloth.

And questions.

" _Lady_?" one shrieked.

Another poked at her leg. "Lady...back?"

Sarah swiveled on the throne ( _throne?)_ to gape at the squatty, buck-toothed goblin who was now stabbing her with his spear. She'd wished herself to the throne room. And the throne room meant the castle which meant _help_ ; the wish had worked better than expected. She dropped the tool to grab at the goblin's leather vest. "Where'd you put him?"

The goblin released his spear with a yelp. "Where?"

"Yes, _where_ ," she snapped. "Where'd you put the Goblin King? He's been shot and needs help."

"I... We..."

"Did you say His Majesty has been _shot_?"

The incredulous voice lured Sarah's focus towards the doorway where she spotted what looked like a petite, gray-haired man wearing a maroon nightgown. But she had never seen a man with cloven hooves and curling, ivory horns poking up from messy curls. Neither man nor goblin, though his shock stressed that he at least understood the gravity of the situation. Sarah leaped up to meet him in the doorway. "Yes. With iron. I wished us away, but he's not _here_ ," she pressed, waving backward with the tiara.

He spat out something under his breath then turned on his hooves. "Come with me."

"You know where he is? Can you help him?"

He huffed as he hurried down the circular staircase. "Depends on how much of a fool he was this time."

She still didn't know who or what he was, but Sarah decided she liked him immensely.

* * *

Someone had taken a cheese grater to his side. A cheese grater dredged in acid then superheated, it seemed. He tried to shift his position, then hissed as a small hand pressed his shoulder back down into the mattress.

"Easy. You, sire, are very lucky to be alive."

Jareth exhaled, then opened his eyes to his advisor. "Luck had nothing to do with it, Erwin. And she prefers to be called Sarah."

"Damn straight, I do."

He snorted, then winced. Iron poisoning. Again. The effects lingered like a wayward bite of rancid meat, but with Erwin's assistance, it would pass in a few hours. Plus - and he grinned slightly - Sarah was here. And even better: she'd wished to save him. He looked over at her, still dressed head-to-toe in skin-tight black, and seated with crossed legs in his highback leather chair by the window. She'd tilted it towards his bedside and was staring at him with an odd mix of relief, concern, and amusement. Mercurial thing; just like him.

The concern won out. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Worried about me?" He'd take the pain ten-times over, if so.

She uncrossed her legs swiftly, frowning. "You about died in the store, Jareth. You jumped in front of a bullet." She opened her mouth as if there was something else, but then closed it without speaking.

He could tell she was torn. Most certainly about why he'd done it. Perhaps how she _felt_ about why he'd done it. He'd thought he'd been clear, all those years ago, but her confusion at his wishing comment suggested otherwise. She had been young, he conceded. But she was a woman now: stunning in confidence, beauty, and craft. Formidable. He'd thought she'd have called him sooner - after her magic manifested, at least - but he should have known she would have taken it in stride. Now that she finally had, he would just have to make his desires plain.

But, there were bastards to punish first, and the mood was not right for his plans.

"I've survived worse. Erwin once had to pry a half-dozen arrows from my back." He quirked a corner of lips. "Apparently, it is inappropriate to comment on the size of the High King's hands."

"Yes," he said dryly, "he mentioned that one. And the time you congratulated the High Queen on her pregnancy."

"An unfortunate mistake. But it did decrease the number of functions I've been demanded to attend." At that, Sarah snorted, and he could sense a weight had been lifted. "Do you have the tiara?"

She held it up with a raised brow. "You want to wear it this minute?"

 _Oh, my precious thing_. "No," he grinned, and blue glinted, "it's for after."

"After what?"

"After we do something about those store owners with a death wish."

Erwin groaned. Sarah - to his immense delight, however - leaned forward in his chair. "What did you have in mind?"

* * *

The more Sarah considered it, the more she thought it unlikely that the otherworldly store owners would report the robbery to New York authorities, but she and Jareth waited a day just to make sure. As expected, 'Ultimate Diamond Company' continued its bustling business of selling fraudulent jewelry without an outward hint that their most (likely, _only_ ) priceless artifact had been snatched. Cops wouldn't have been able to find the tiara, anyway.

That didn't mean, however, that they were entirely useless.

Sarah sipped her coffee on the bench, ignoring the nagging feelings of deja vu. "You're certain this is going to work? The iron door isn't going to be a problem?"

Jareth chuckled lowly, then leaned over to whisper in her ear. "It was warded to keep the back rooms protected. If it's as you suspect, there is nothing in the front worth protecting. The spell will take."

She nodded tightly when he pulled back, hoping he couldn't hear the flutter in her chest or see the curl of her nails into her palm. They would find out shortly. Though, after discovering those bags of tiny rocks, she was confident her suspicions on it being a magical front were correct. It would also explain why Frank and his questionable Italian associates knew about the tiara. No, the Plan wasn't the cause of her flutter. She should have known working closely with him would do her in; especially after he'd saved her from being _shot. Damn impulsive, obnoxiously entrancing kings and their chivalry. And their sinful pants._ She curled her nails tighter.

After he'd recovered, Jareth had finally confirmed that the tiara _was_ his (his great grandmother's, actually). So, she felt he had every right to be furious with the owners for stealing it then setting up traps designed to catch and kill him if he tried to snatch it back. She hadn't hesitated to latch onto his revenge plans. She could have been killed, too. Plus, there was something about swindling the general public with fraudulent jewelry that set her off. She stole items, sure; but her targets always knew what had been done. It was the audacity to deceive paying customers that irritated her immensely.

She was also inordinately pleased to have Jareth as her accomplice.

Sarah checked her watch, then nudged Jareth with her shoulder to indicate it was time: half-past nine. Like before - though for an entirely different reason - the store would be busy enough for the plot to work. Once he stood, she slipped her arm within his outstretched elbow. This part had been her (self-serving) idea, but Jareth's eyes had gleamed at the suggestion.

She was done for. Most definitely.

The little bell jingled as they pushed open the door and Sarah exhaled lightly when she spotted the same clerk from a few days back, chatting with a dark-haired couple over a tray of rings. Sarah waited until the pair made their ill-advised purchase, then pulled Jareth towards the clerk. For once, she hoped he remembered.

"Ah, madam! Welcome back. And you've brought the boyfriend!"

Sarah plastered a winning smile across her face as she leaned into Jareth's side. "Yes. He got the hint."

The clerk chuckled and plucked one of the rings up from the tray before holding it out for Jareth to inspect. "Madam has excellent taste."

"In many things, I've found," Jareth replied wryly, glancing down his shoulder, and Sarah felt the flutter threaten again. "But I'm looking for something a bit more... _extravagant_ than what you have here. Price is no issue, of course."

Sarah knew they had him as soon as Jareth implied an unlimited budget, as the clerk's eyes widened just slightly before he nodded. "Of course, sir. I believe we have some pieces in the back that might interest you. If you'll excuse me one moment."

There were obviously no such pieces (yet), but Sarah smiled as her suspicions were confirmed. Fraudulent, magic-wielding, tiara-stealing bastards. She was going to enjoy this next part.

The remaining store clerk was busy with several customers, so once their own had left for the back, there was no attendant near to stop Sarah as she turned around to lean her back against the case. No one so much as blinked as she surreptitiously placed both hands upon glass beside her; shifting one hand _just_ slightly to tap, tap, tap the tray forward until there was nothing but air at its front edge. Jareth was watching her closely, inches away and lips quirked, but before she could remind him that this was where he needed to cast his magic, he closed the space.

The tray of rings clattered - as planned - to the floor. But she barely heard them.

His kiss was soft, but hot lightening fanned down her chest as he brought one hand to cradle the back of her neck. For a second, his thin lips caressed her own, until she felt him smile as she returned the pressure, and the bite of a canine sent another pulse of heat down to her stomach. He pulled back to rest his forehead against hers for a moment, smirking, and only then, with his lips detached from her own, did she hear the shrieking.

As expected.

Several customers nearby had bent down to collect (or pocket) the scattered rings, and even from her standing position, she could see the shards of broken glass littered around the now-empty ring settings.

"They're fakes!" one woman shouted. "All of them!"

" _All_ of them?" another shrieked, grabbing hold of the arm of her male companion. "John, call the police!"

"Kissing wasn't part of the plan," Sarah whispered up at him while the commotion heightened. Not that she _minded_ , of course. Self-serving ploy, and all. Her lips were still tingling.

"Oh?" he said, feigning surprise while returning her grin. "Near-death experiences do muddle things."

She snorted, but then pulled him towards the front as she heard the whir of sirens in the distance. She knew the cops would be quick to respond here, what with them already on heightened alert for robberies. She had no intention of being interviewed as a witness. She still had her clandestine career to consider.

For now, at least.

The guard was trying to restrain the (rightfully) furious customers as they accosted the clerks, so there was no one to stop Sarah and Jareth from slipping out the front door. No one noticed them either as they slid amongst tourists and right by the blaring cop cars that pulled up on the curb. Her special powers were helpful but his glamour magic had its uses, too.

After they'd turned into a deserted alley, Jareth twisted his wrist to form a crystal and held out his arm again. "I wonder if I could interest you in a celebratory drink. My thanks for your assistance with the tiara."

"Sounds perfect," she replied. He hadn't hesitated to return her home the last time, and she'd earned herself a drink. Several, in fact. He'd also implied he would be trying on the tiara and she could use a good laugh. And then there was the matter of his owing her an answer about wishing. Liquor was always an excellent tool for getting answers. And other things that required tongues.

He transported them to what she now recognized as his chambers. Dark wood and sharp edges. A roaring stone fireplace, several labyrinthine oil paintings, and a heavy fur rug settled partway under a bed dressed in black and silver silks. He led her towards the small sitting area near the window and she fell into the chair she'd earlier claimed. After taking its twin, he again twisted his wrist, and a decanter of amber liquid and two tumblers appeared on the small, round table between them.

She smiled wryly; she knew her liquor. It was, after all, how she'd discovered her talents. "Serving whisky to a lady?"

He chuckled as he handed her a portion. "Lady? I've met no lady who plots against scoundrels. You, Sarah, are something far greater."

"I am an excellent thief," she conceded, sipping once and savoring the familiar, pleasant burn. "I never did thank you for the magic. I'm not sure why you gave it, since I turned down my dreams, but it's been incredible." She sipped again. "Exhilarating."

"I would think by now, you could guess," he drawled, sipping his own. But then, his expression softened. "Although, I do owe you an answer if you'd like it. I am confident it will assist."

His words still held their riddling edge, but at his feather-soft glance, she saw his fa _ç_ ade start to crumble. Sly words and suggestions. Certain powers, chivalry, and a kiss that set her aflame. Still, she had to know. He owed her that much. "What did you mean about people wishing themselves out of the store?"

He took a drink, and then, allowed the burn to lead him. "You asked me if anyone could call me and wish themselves out. They could not. That particular skill is tied to me, and I've only gifted certain powers to one person."

"Why?" she asked, setting her glass down slowly, though her pulse had started racing.

He set his own down and leaned forward until he was close enough to see the flecks of gold in her eyes. Close enough to hear her breathing shift and catch as she kept her lips parted expectantly. Then, to see the flecks overtaken by black. She wanted him.

And he would have her.

But if it was clarity she first required, he would make it crystal. He reached for her chin, lifting up. "Because only you have earned them. Only you - Champion of the Labyrinth and unparalleled in compassion, resolve, and wit - are my equal." He paused for a moment, hearing her breath catch again, but then moved his hand to gently thumb her cheek. "And only you, Sarah Williams, have captured the heart of the Goblin King."

She heard glass shatter as she moved, thrusting her lips to meet his own, and she instantly forgot silly things like drinks and dreams. Her reality was far more intoxicating.

He tasted of malt and honey; warm notes that kindled and popped as she learned him press-by-press. And _God_ ; each kiss was its own sort of glorious. First, rich, wild magic at her lips; then hot lightning and flame that sped down to her toes. She leaned into his embrace. Why hadn't she done this sooner? His lips were still soft, but now desperate as they claimed and caressed. Press and release. Push and pull. His canine found a sensitive spot on her bottom lip, and she let out a little moan as her pulse flared. But it was like he couldn't feel her because he suddenly molded her against him, and his scent was everywhere: foreign spice and sandalwood and something distinctly masculine and _magical._ She shifted one hand up from his neck to tangle in his hair as she urged his lips to part with a swipe of tongue. Her, memorizing every touch and line of his body as it ground against hers; his hands pulling at her hip and neck, as if she still wasn't near enough. When she felt the length of him rise to meet her, she slipped her tongue inside his mouth to taste him fully, and the moan in the back of his throat ignited the flutter in her stomach; caused a damp heat to flood even lower.

"Bed," she choked out. " _Now."_

She felt him growl into her smile as he pulled her backward, still plastered against her as if netted, and though her jeans and sweater were far heavier than her black nylon, she felt parts of him she'd never before. He was letting her in - in more ways than one - and she was nothing if not a seal breaker.

And she was _exceptional_ in her profession.

He fell into silk without yielding and she grabbed at other silks in desperation; tearing and pulling and nipping and caressing. When she growled in frustration, he laughed into her lips and she felt the _whish_ of a spell as it stole barriers. And then, she moved again, pushing his bare chest back farther onto the bed and pulling up so she could stradle him; her, clad only in black lace and him, painted-on gray breeches. He'd lost his gloves, but he'd regained his dark and victorious gleam. She was certain she was his mirror.

"Glorious. Beautiful. And _m_ _ine_ ," he crooned.

"Yours," she confirmed and then leaned in to whisper against his lips. "But it's _Sarah._ "

He flipped her without warning, and his smile was feral as he drank her in. " _My_ Sarah." And then his lips were claiming hers again; his fingers cradling her neck and tangling through her hair. The other hand trailing her side, then down her back to rest at its base, and Sarah's pulse rippled in remembrance of his touch there. Of his gloves, reaching up, then _down,_ and his hot whisper in her ear. But bare skin on skin was even more sinful. His hands were both feather-soft and sparking as they memorized the curve of her hips, trailing lightly. But he was _hers_ too, and she would have him, so she moved one hand from his hair to stroke then grasp him, and he hissed into her smile.

" _Sarah_ -"

 _Oh_ , had he been broken by her; fractured like spelled shards of glass. But she _knew_ her power, and she released him with another nip to his bottom lip. Another then, sharper. He growled, then slid his hand from her back to her chest to shift lace and Sarah arched and _moaned_ as his lips claimed one peak. Suckling and nipping as his hands continued to mold her against him.

She was lost. Utterly lost in the feel and the taste and the smell of him. The sight of him alone as he pleasured her, all fine lines and lithe muscle, was almost painful. She had imagined him in dreams, but that seemed only like the ghost of his present touch. She arched again as he suddenly parted lace to find her center, testing with one finger, then two, and her mewl was all he needed to rend the fabric completely. And then his mouth was everywhere; trailing fire down her chest and stomach until it reached the hand at the apex of her thighs, and Sarah was certain she'd _combust_ if she didn't have him there and then.

" _Gods_ , Jareth. Fuck me."

He pulled up just slightly, and his smile was blinding. " _As you wish_."

* * *

Sometime later, when the sky had shifted from dusk to starlight, Sarah awoke; gloriously sated and naked in the arms of her Goblin King. It was unclear if he'd fallen asleep after their lovemaking; his smile was just as feral as it'd been in those long moments.

"Did you rest?"

He shook his head slightly. "I'll rest after."

She chuckled. "After what? We sabotage another business?" Then, a sly smile. "After you try on your tiara?"

"No." And he pushed himself up on one elbow, then twisted fingertips to hold out the delicate piece. "After you. You, and only you."

And even the fear of breaking it couldn't stop her from taking him again; clad now only in emerald and gold.

* * *

The mortal was just where she'd said he'd be.

The park had been littered with joggers and bicyclists. Given his glamour, however, none had spared him a second glance as he strode through its edge to the four-story brick building marked with a silver '1986'. His person was still tinged with an element of the unknown, but his features and clothing were just normal enough to dissuade concern.

The poor fool really should have been concerned.

The doorbell echoed long enough to outlast the creak of the door as it opened just slightly, the chain still latched. "What do you want?" a man asked gruffly.

"I am looking for a Frank. Our... _talented_ mutual acquaintance instructed me to bring your requested item here." That didn't mean he _had_ , of course.

The door opened another inch. "And just who are you? Where's S.B.?"

 _Seal Breaker_. His clever thing had been careful. "She is presently indisposed, but as her partner, I assure you; I come with her blessing."

The man harrumphed but closed the door fully, and the clink of the chain could be heard moments later. When the door opened again, a stocky, dark-haired man in a pinstripe suit ogled Jareth curiously. But he ticked his head inwards and turned back into the apartment.

Jareth followed with a grin, allowing his glamour to fall and twisting his wrist. He was going to enjoy this part.

No one called his future Queen a _doll._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Much love to all readers, commenters, and kudos-givers! In my head, Jareth and Sarah continue their tag team thievery and poor Erwin patches them up. No way Sarah stops using those special powers.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story is COMPLETE, but I'm splitting it into two bite-sized pieces. The second part (revenge with a side of lemons) to be posted later this week.
> 
> This was all inspired by a plot-bunny from the brilliant Jetredgirl who envisioned Sarah using her "special powers" to become a cat-burglar or jewel thief. I absolutely couldn't resist teasing out that trickery. Major, major props to her!
> 
> 'Svartálfar' is Norse for "dark elf." Seemed like an appropriate thing that Jareth would call Sarah while she was dressed in all black and gifted with magic. I think everything else is self-explanatory.


End file.
